


Can't you hear the bells?

by leocey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Detective Noir, F/F, Gabe was head of police, Jack runs a speakeasy, Lena and Jesse are both rookies, M/M, Mystery, Prohibition, Speakeasies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leocey/pseuds/leocey
Summary: Jesse McCree and Lena Oxton are rookie detectives in a medically focused world where alchohol is banned. After the mysterious death of their commanding officer, Gabriel Reyes, Lena and Jesse are challenged by a new set of crimes committed by a strange man named Reaper. Lena finds herself in love with a woman who seems to never leave a speakeasy and isn't what she seems, Jesse finds more and more hints implying that Reyes's death wasn't an accident.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! If you did, ring me up at littleripperboy on tumblr!

Jesse shifted uncomfortably in his hastily set up folding chair. He sat as emotionless as he possibly could in the front row seat for his fucking boss’s fucking funeral what the fuck. He still couldn’t process yesterday’s events, what with the death of Chief Reyes and the emptiness in his heart.

“Sorry, love!” His thoughts were interrupted by a somehow cheery voice. A coffee was held out in a long arm to him, and of course, he took it out of respect. He wasn’t in the mood for coffee, or water, or hydration. The girl, Lena, sat down next to him. Fresh off the boat from London, she was interning at the station for something or other to do with her law degree. She meant well, of course. “You okay, Jesse?” She asked. Jesse grunted. Lena understood the grunt, and left him to his thoughts after a hug. He sat the latte down on the ground to his left.

He didn’t really compute anything going on after that. The October breeze filled the air with sents of leaves and pumpkins, bringing a pretty nice feeling into a pretty shitty situation. Jesse heard the sobs of Reyes’s boyfriend coming in, the click-clack of high heels on the pavement and the swish-swishes of dresses in the autumn breeze. He didn’t look, though. He kept his hat pulled over his head, with his head in his hands.

Eventually, someone began to talk. Jesse didn’t really focus- how could he? He heard some words that didn’t begin to describe how wonderful Reyes was, he heard sobs, he heard the caws of crows nearby. He heard Morrison begin to talk about how wonderful Gabriel is, his words being cut short by sobs. Jesse had politely declined giving a word for Reyes, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. He couldn’t form the words. He didn’t want to disgrace Reyes by just blabbing nonsensically on the podium for thirty minutes. Mumbling at someone’s funeral is just rude.

Eventually it ended. Jesse wasn’t sure when. He was the same as at the beginning; still upset and hurt, still pretty sad and not having a great time. In fact, a pretty shitty time.

“G-Gabe- God, I-” Morrison stuttered over his words. Jesse understood the sentiment. It’s pretty fucking shocking. “Sure, they tell you all the time that police can die in their line of work and all, b-but-” Morrison sniffled. “I just- I didn’t think it’d happen to me.” Morrison continued to ramble, more sappy and depressing statements getting to his heart. Lena started crying halfway through, spilling Jesse’s coffee. Nobody bothered to comment, or even bother with picking it up. Not a good idea. Irrelevant for now.

A few other people spoke. Assistant Chief- Chief, now, Jesse guesses- Fareeha Amari talked about Reyes being like a father to her before and after her mother’s untimely death. She talked about more sappy shit that made Jesse cry. Poor Fareeha. Genji talked about how Reyes saved his life by rescuing him after his brother left him for dead. Fuck, that hit home hard. Reyes saved him from being fuckin’ gang trash and rotting on the south side of Chicago. Fuck.

Eventually, it ended. Jesse didn’t get up- he stayed in the chair with his thoughts. When he got up, he walked past the closed casket- of course it was closed, there wasn’t a body- he stayed still and sat down. Reyes didn’t deserve to go down this way. Jesse took off his hat, and placed it on the casket. His hat was precious, but, fuck.

He walked away, crying silently, hatless.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lena walked to her favorite joint. Course it was a speakeasy, America had banned liquor and alcohol a few years back because of something to do with health. Nobody followed the rule, but damn, was a good beer hard to get if you didn’t know the right people. Luckily, Lena did know the right people. Her chief was married to the dude who ran Morrison's, the best joint in the town for moonshine. Their stock was pretty limited, but Lena didn’t give a damn. She didn’t come to the States from London to have her beer taken from her.

The joint was pretty full when she walked in. She walked in big strides to order a beer, sitting down as close to the stage as she could.

The most beautiful woman she’d ever seen sat on the stage. Her face was long, with chiseled cheekbones and plump lips with a heavy coating of purple lipstick on. Her eyes were a tender blue, her eyelashes were as long as anything Lena’d ever seen before. She was stunning, with her tall stature and curves. Her chest wasn’t much to cry home for, but her ass.. One leg stuck out of her dress, and her chest was visible with its low V-cut shape. Damn. Her dress was black, with gloves and the highest heels she’d ever seen on.

Lena decided to sit closer to the stage. She could watch this woman sing all night. She’d like to.

“Ey, Jack,” Lena asked the bartender while he filled her up a new pop of beer. “Hm?” “New singer.. Who is she? Is she single?” Jack giggled.

“I guess. Can’t tell you her name, but her stage names’ Widowmaker.” “Widowmaker? That’s an odd name. Sexy. I can roll with it. “TMI, Lena. TMI.”

She stayed the whole night, as per usual. Lena rented Jack’s basement. Reyes had convinced him to, after all, letting a law student stay in his basement helped pay taxes and Lena did volunteer to help work at the bar during the weekend.

Lena’s eyes met Widow’s for what felt like the fifty-seventh time that night. Oh, sweet, delicious eye contact.

“Bonjour,” Widow greeted, as she stepped off the stage. Lena heard Jack shoo customers out, but Widow didn’t leave. “Ello!” She rang. “So, you new ere? Fresh off the boat?” Widow smiled. She didn’t say a word, though.

Jack shooed her off to the basement, and Widow left. Lena didn’t hear a door close, and she retired to her mattress for the night.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jesse flipped through files reguarding Reyes’s death. Nothing seemed right, things called it an accident, he was overeager, he overextended. Jesse couldn’t find details.

He used his key on the bottommost cabinet of Reyes’s desk after a pretty hardcore sneak into the room. He found files, gum, pictures of Jack (that’s gay), books, wrappers- jackpot.

Reyes’s diary. A torn-up moleskine notebook with more gay photos inside, photos of his dog, and entries. Jesse skipped to the last entry.

“Got a lead on A. Investigating a building on the near west side tomorrow.”  
Who the fuck is A? From what else he’d been told, an explosion on the near west side had killed him. Yeah, do’oh, Jesse. Was he going in to save someone? Why couldn’t they find his body?  
He saw a light go on outside. Fuck.

Pharah.

He’d have to continue his searching tomorrow. He could, he'd have time. He'd just say he was collecting his old shit.

Shit, he could hear her coming. Fuck.

He crawled back out of the window he came in, shutting the latch and locking it as silently as he could, sneaking out hopefully without a sound or trace.


End file.
